Chapter Twenty-Seven Ella
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ella
It’s the day before Whitland’s short Thanksgiving break and I’ve finally made up my mind about what I want. Coach Morgan will allow Hudson to join our team provided he meets all the other academic requirements.
He does, of course. He’s been on the football team for the past three and a half years. He’s a star student who’s kept a solid GPA despite all his extracurriculars. And he’s committed to finishing the year strong.
Morgan was oddly impressed with Hudson’s skills, in both stunting and tumbling.
She didn’t require much convincing, but I suppose it makes sense.
We needed someone to step in for the pyramid now that Ash is out of the running, anyway.
Even if he’s fully healed come April, he wouldn’t be able to practice with us over the next few months.
I figured it would be more of a long shot than it was, Hudson joining us. Some sort of unprecedented exception to the rule—to allow a football player to try out for the squad three months into his senior year. But these kinds of things happen more often than one would assume.
Last-minute additions to the team. Well-known athletes getting a boost with admissions. In my case, study-abroad students competing in a singular season before heading back home.
The world isn’t as fair as they teach us in primary school, and that makes me feel even guiltier about Ash. He’s worked harder than anyone to be a part of this team, and now he’s being replaced by Hudson, who’s only been practicing with us for a few weeks.
But that’s life, right?
Which is why I’ve decided to continue with my and Hudson’s trysts for the time being. I think we can continue to compartmentalize things, and I enjoy our time together too much to quit now.
He has this pull, a magnetic force that seems to yank me towards him. I’m so painfully aware of him at every practice session, every chance meeting, every time we’re in the same room together. It’s baffling and intoxicating all at once, and not something I’m willing to give up.
I’ve gone back and forth about this in my head over and over again. The pros, the cons, the potential pitfalls—yet here I am, standing at his front door, ready to plunge forward.
Hudson comes to greet me, looking casually disheveled in his usual jeans and simple white T-shirt. His dark hair is slightly mussed, as though he’s just woken up, and those gray eyes spark with confusion at my unexpected arrival.
It’s quite a heavenly sight.
“Good morning,” he says, surprise written all over his face. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a quick swallow, and a rush of heat sweeps through me. But I hold my ground and force myself to give a casual smile.
“Just thought I’d stop by,” I say. “Give you that talk I promised.”
“Ah.” Recognition flickers in his eyes, quickly replaced by a guarded curiosity. “Sure. Come in.”
We make our way into his kitchen, and he pours me a cup of coffee. He leans against the countertop as I sip, crossing his arms over that muscular chest, watching me.
“Alright,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s see the list, then.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “The list?”
“Your pro/con list.”
“I didn’t—I mean, it was more of a mental list.”
“Hmm.” His lips twitch into an amused half-smile. “So, what’s it gonna be, Davies? How do I measure up?”
I set my cup down on the counter. Despite his casual demeanor, there’s a tension in his pose that tells me he’s anything but relaxed. I meet his gaze head-on.
“I’ll continue,” I say. “Continue with … us. Whatever it is we’re doing, so long as we agree to three things first.”
Tension drains from his shoulders and he smiles fully now. “Yeah?”
I give him a firm nod. “Yes. And before you say anything”—I quickly hold up a finger, stopping him—“the things we need to agree on are important, and I’ve thought about them a lot.”
His smile doesn’t falter. In fact, now it carries a hint of that familiar mischievous charm. The cocky confidence that first drew me to him. “Alright,” he says with a raised eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
First,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, mimicking his stance from earlier, “we need to be clear about what this is. I’m not ready for another relationship, Hudson.
I just got out of one a few months ago. And I know you’re not looking for one, either.
Plus, I’ll be leaving for England at the end of the school year.
” I gesture vaguely in his direction, my gaze dropping to the scuffed hardwood floor between us.
“Whatever we are, it will continue to be casual. No strings, like you said. As soon as it starts feeling like more than that, we’ve got to end it. ”
A moment of silence. The rapid ticking of the old-fashioned kitchen clock.
“Second,” I continue, lifting my gaze back to his.
“We should still try and keep things behind closed doors. It doesn’t matter that we’re strictly professional on the field, or that our coaches are currently none the wiser.
No more kissing in the middle of parties, no canoodling on the mat. That gives us an easy boundary.”
His eyes flicker with some untraceable emotion before he nods once, his gaze steady. “Got it. Casual and discreet,” he says. “I won’t canoodle you in front of other people. And the third thing?”
“Third …” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “Respect. I won’t tolerate being treated like some kind of disposable conquest. And vice versa. No third parties while we’re doing this.”
His jaw tightens. “Agreed. Besides, handling you is more than enough for me.”
A flush of warmth colors my cheeks, bringing with it a sense of satisfaction. “Good, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” I say, pushing myself off the counter and turning to leave the kitchen.
“Hey.” He gently reaches for me, pulling me back against him. “Before you leave, there’s something else I need to do.”
A shiver jolts down my spine as his fingers close around my wrist. He twirls me around and pulls me in for a soft kiss. It’s hard not to let it consume me. Warm lips, the slip of his tongue, the firmness of his grip on my waist. I practically melt into a puddle at his feet.
When he finally lets me go, he still has a thumb hooked into one of my belt loops. “Are you holding me hostage again?”
He grins. “Nah, just wondering what you’re doing for Thanksgiving?”
I tap the back of his hand, hoping to calm the butterflies. “Oh, um, nothing? I don’t celebrate, obviously. And Gabi’s left already, so I’ll just be at the apartment.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone,” I confirm. “It’s not exactly feasible to fly across the Atlantic for every minor American holiday.”
He’s quiet for a moment. And when he finally speaks, his voice contains a strange note of … excitement? “Then come home with me,” he says, before adding, “And Levi.”
I start at his words, turning to blink at him. “You want me to spend the holiday … with you?”
He rubs the back of his neck and gives me a half-shrug. “I mean … yeah. You shouldn’t be alone. Not while the rest of us are off with our families. Besides, my mom could do with a little more feminine energy. Three to two is a better ratio, don’t you think?”
“Three?”
“My little brother Carter will be there, too.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, escaping before I can stop it. “Oh, I see. So now I’m just leveling the playing field?”
“Something like that.” His smile softens, and he looks at me in a way that makes my heart stutter despite myself. “But really … I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you would enjoy it. My family’s a good time.”
An image of Hudson, surrounded by his mum and brother, flashes through my mind. I’m intrigued by the idea of a trip to Hudson’s home, of seeing this unfamiliar side of him. But meeting his family? It seems like more than just the casual thing we agreed upon moments ago.
Yet the thought of spending the long holiday alone in an empty apartment doesn’t exactly fill me with joy either. “An all-American Thanksgiving with the Fox family, huh? Seems like quite the cultural experience.”
He grins. “Exactly! Consider it more of an anthropological study if you’d like. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Sure,” I say, “I suppose I’ll do it for science.”
“Great. We’re leaving in an hour.”
“But I—”
“Don’t have anything packed.” He cuts me off with a knowing smile, lifting his hand as if he can stop my protest before it starts. “And you probably Ubered here, so, you know, I’ve got you covered.”
I frown. “You’re kidding, right? I’d be swimming in your clothes.”
He rolls his eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping him. “I’ll drive you back to yours then, you can grab what you need, and we’ll swing back to pick up Levi. Sourdough’s coming along for the ride, too.”
“How long are we on the road for?” I ask, bracing for the answer.
“Just over seven hours.”
I give him a deadpan look. “Seven hours? Please tell me you’re joking.”
He huffs, the smirk now fully forming. “Come on. I thought you were smarter than that.”
We’re on our sixth hour of the trip, and Sourdough is sound asleep, curled up on my lap in the back seat of Hudson’s truck.
Levi’s in the passenger seat, head lolling to one side as he snores while Hudson drives, eyes focused on the road ahead.
The radio is playing some country artist I don’t recognize.
I watch the landscape streaming by—an endless expanse of trees, golden fields, and tiny fractured towns. It’s eerily beautiful, in a kind of desolate way. Not what I’m used to in England, or even Nashville.
I grew up in Alderley Edge in Cheshire. It’s a far cry from rural America. Here, the houses are wide apart, their silhouettes just barely visible over the dry fields. Some have red barns, others vintage silos, all scattered across miles.
Meanwhile, back home, everything is a bit more contained. The small, winding streets are lined with manicured gardens, and while the Edge itself offers stunning views of the plain, it’s a place where every turn feels familiar, every face a neighbor or friend.
As we near the border between Arkansas and Texas, the rolling hills and dense forests slowly fade into a dusty landscape of infinite flatlands.
“Just another hour,” Hudson says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.
Levi stirs next to him, snorting himself awake. He groggily rubs his eyes. “Are we there yet?” he asks, his voice gritty with sleep.
“Yeah,” Hudson wisecracks without taking his eyes off the road. “We’ve arrived but we decided to stay in the car.”
Levi grunts, clearly unamused. He slumps back in his seat and in no time he’s snoring again.
As Hudson chuckles softly, a yawn spreads like wildfire through me, making my eyes water.
I’ve been fighting sleep since we crossed the Tennessee state line, but now, as we approach the seventh hour of our trip, the fatigue is harder to fight.
“Do you want me to take over?” I offer, stifling another yawn with the back of my hand.
He arches his eyebrow, meeting my gaze in the rearview. “Do you even know how to drive a manual?”
“Yes, of course. Just … not on the right.”
“Okay. Let’s put a sleepy girl behind the wheel who’s used to driving on the wrong side of the road.”
“It’s not the wrong side,” I correct.
“Of course, it’s the other side.” He grins, winking at me in the mirror. “Save your energy, darlin’. We’re almost there.”
Sourdough twitches in his sleep, nuzzling his head against my folded legs. With a sigh, I stroke his soft fur.
“Just warning you,” he continues in a low voice. “Our house is kind of small. Well loved but cramped. It’s probably not what you’re used to.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” I assure him, and his eyes soften at my words.
An hour later, we pull up to a modest one-story house. It’s enveloped by a fading picket fence, the paint peeling off in places. There’s an old oak tree out front. A tattered porch swing sways lazily in the gentle night breeze.
It isn’t grand or ostentatious, but it looks like home. It looks like Hudson.